


More Alive To Tenderness

by Kennel_Boy



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Picard, Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Gap Filler, Healing, Hugh | Third of Five Lives, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:47:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24380785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kennel_Boy/pseuds/Kennel_Boy
Summary: In which Elnor gets to honor his oath, Hugh survives his encounter with Narissa, and the xB insurrection and Seven's isolated collective aboard the Artifact aren't even Hugh's biggest concerns upon waking. Part gap-filler, part fix-it 'fic, all AU.
Relationships: Elnor/Hugh | Third of Five
Comments: 30
Kudos: 54





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This picks up immediately after Season 1, ep. 6, "The Impossible Box". All I can say by way of explaining myself is:
> 
> 1) I'm a sucker for "healing on Nepenthe" AUs, so we're doing that.
> 
> 2) Literally nothing substantial about the series changes if we send Elnor off on his own adventures post ep. 7, so we're going to do that too.
> 
> Also, many thanks to iwritesometimes for the beta read! ♥  
> Enjoy!

There was no advantage of surprise when the second guard patrol came upon them. Elnor offered them the chance to live all the same. Their answer was given as they reached for their weapons, and Elnor’s world became nothing but the sum of their respective choices: his to fight and theirs to die. Blaster fire lanced through the shifting, angled shadows of the Artifact, close enough that the scent of singed cloth hit the back of Elnor’s throat a moment before his blade sliced through the neck of the woman before him.

Another blaster shot, this one wide; the ex-Borg, Hugh, had his arms locked around the neck of a guard, hauling him off balance. It was an inexpert hold. It would take only a moment for the guard to regain his footing and bring his weapon to bear on the shorter human. In the instant it took Elnor to make that observation, he’d thrust his sword low into the man’s chest, splitting his heart.

“Are you hurt?”

Hugh shook his head and released his hold. The body collapsed to the floor.

“I’m fine.” Hugh glanced at the door to the queencell, now a featureless wall at their backs. He scooped up his discarded lantern and started forward. “This way.”

Elnor fell into step beside him. “Thank you for disrupting his aim. But let me do the fighting.” There was no response from Hugh, save to stop at the first juncture they came to, watching and listening. Elnor appreciated the caution, but they had to keep moving.

“Which way?”

“There are only so many places on this cube we can hide.” Hugh looked up at him, a tense resolution reflected in his eyes. “Sooner or later, the guards will track us down, and it won’t be pleasant when they do.” 

Hugh swallowed, then visibly steeled himself. “Head down this corridor until it branches off left and right at the wall. Turn right. Then keep going until you reach the transit conduits. They’re not safe to traverse, but they interfere with the internal sensors the Free State installed. No one uses them. Lay low there.”

“I don’t like this plan.” Elnor strained to see farther ahead than the next two intersections of walkway, but the gloom of the Artifact was easily a match for eyes more accustomed to Vashti’s harsh sunlight. “What will you be doing while I’m hiding?”

Hugh’s mouth curled in a sallow smile. “I’ll most likely be under interrogation by a very irate Romulan commander. Now get going.” 

Elnor shook his head, refusal on his lips before Hugh had finished speaking. 

“No. We’ll stay together. And if they find us…”

“ _Listen_ to me, Elnor.” Hugh words were whispered, hissed like an angry sand-adder. “The guards you just killed were not standard security for this facility. Whatever’s going on, whoever’s looking for Doctor Asha, they’re already on this ship. And if they find us, they can torture and kill you with impunity.

“I’m a Federation citizen, protected by a treaty it took the Romulan Free State and the Federation _seven years_ to hammer out. If nothing else, it means they can’t just kill me. Not without risking the loss of this cube and all the resources on it. And at least while their attention’s on me, they’re not going to look for someone they don’t know exists.”

“You’re counting on a paper shield to protect you,” Elnor said, frowning. “I hate this - it’s _wrong._ You’re only in danger because you came to Admiral Picard’s aid. And… I swore to him I would protect you. You shouldn’t face them alone.” 

“If you die, I’m facing them alone anyway.” Hugh shoved the lantern into Elnor’s hand and gave him a push toward the corridor. “Go. I’ll find you when I’m able. We’ll plan from there.” It wasn’t a tone that allowed for further argument.

Elnor wanted to renew his protest, but he had nothing to counter Hugh’s logic or his knowledge of the situation. But… he could give him a warning, something Admiral Picard must not have had time for.

“Hugh. Doctor Asha’s a synth. We don’t know where she came from, but the faction pursuing her already hunted her sister to Earth and killed her. Please be careful. I’m worried the usual rules of this place may not apply.”

Hugh nodded his thanks, then set out into the dark. Elnor watched him for another moment, then ran, every inch of distance he put between them a betrayal of his oath.

* * *

Elnor’s path ended in an echoing warren of tunnels, all branching off from a massive central corridor where the ship’s artificial gravity pulsed weak and untrustworthy. It was beyond Elnor what the Borg had used this place for, but it was easy to see why Hugh had thought it would be a good hiding place, especially for one trained in stealth. 

The tunnels whispered to each other, carrying snatches of distorted words and low, strange sounds he couldn’t begin to identify. They must have branched to every part of the cube when it was operational; the maddening noise wouldn’t have been a factor for a crew of drones that cared for nothing unless they were instructed to. Elnor tucked himself away in the crook of a tunnel, trying to focus past the noise for the approach of guards.

Until he heard - faint and echoing, but already unmistakable to his ears - the cadence of Hugh’s voice among the ghostly murmuration.

Thought and deed were very often one with Elnor; he was following the thread of sound through the tunnels a heartbeat later. The treacherous gravity hobbled him, forced him to measure every step. He caught the thread as Hugh’s voice cut off, replaced by a snarled Rihan profanity and the beep of a comm channel opening.

“Colonel. Both patrols sent into Subsector 11 were butchered. We found the half-meat Director, but there’s no sign of Picard or Asha.”

“Bring him to me.” 

“What do you want with Dr. Asha?” The crack of the answering blow echoed diffusely through the tunnels, overlapping Hugh’s grunt of pain. Elnor’s fingers itched for his sword, even as he noted Hugh’s attempt to establish his ignorance of the situation. He should not have left him alone. They could have taken these guards together, surely, found someplace to hide and plan. Instead, he’d left his sworn charge to the mercy of people who’d had the very concept trained out of them.

The guard sneered a threat on the heels of his abuse, but they were moving away and the words were indistinct. Elnor followed, scrambling down the tunnels in pursuit of that fragile connection to Hugh. He knew he was becoming hopelessly lost, but he supposed it didn’t matter when he could hardly tell up from down in this accursed place as it was. 

His chosen tunnel ended in open air, a few meters short of a platform holding the moorings of stripped machinery with a healthy drop down onto a walkway below. Nowhere left to run… but he could hear Hugh from somewhere below and not so far away.

“What are they doing here?” For the first time, Elnor heard fear in Hugh’s voice. His jaw clenched. He measured the distance to the ground - if he landed properly, the chances of injury were slim. If he needed to jump...

“That depends on you.” The voice of the Zhat Vash colonel again. “Be an obedient little drone, and they’re only witnesses to your good example.” The faint, high-pitched whine of an energy weapon powering up filled the deliberate pause. “Where have you hidden Picard and the synth?”

Elnor didn’t even have time to draw a full breath before the echoing disruptor blast stopped his breath on a fearful gasp.

_Hugh!_

But no, the interrogation continued: the Zhat Vash pressing for answers, Hugh all but silent in the face of her torment, and Elnor growing more frantic as it became obvious the woman was more cruel than patient. 

“Kill them all.”

Gravity tugged at the pit of Elnor’s stomach as he jumped. A sharp, warning line of pain speared him from ankle to knee when he hit the walkway, but was swept away in the tempest of adrenaline and the heart-stopping cacophony of blaster fire. He ran as fast as he could, his sword in hand and his heart in his throat, praying he was not too late.

Elnor found Hugh on his knees, a slumped outline among the shadows. He crouched beside him, curling one arm protectively around his shoulders, though it was far, far too late to shield him now. Hugh was alive and unwounded, but the terrible, empty grief on his face killed Elnor’s relief between one breath and the next.

He followed Hugh’s fixed gaze to the carnage of a dozen scarred, broken bodies scattered carelessly across the floor, lying twisted where they’d fallen. Elnor saw Hugh’s blank gaze mirrored again and again in the lifeless eyes staring up at the dark nothing above them. So many lives cut down, with almost no blood to mark their slaughter, only the stench of ozone and seared flesh. 

Elnor swallowed hard against the ache in his chest. They had miscalculated the cruelty of the Zhat Vash, and these bystanders who’d had no part in Picard’s mission had died, unknowing, to protect his escape. And Hugh… Hugh had gambled his life for Elnor’s and wound up forfeiting a piece of his soul instead. 

Elnor firmed his grip on Hugh’s shoulder, offering what sparse comfort there was to be found in mutual grief. The chirp of his comm badge saved him from his fruitless search for words.

Hugh finally looked at him. “Your friends. They’re worried.”

His voice was a resigned whisper. 

He expected to be abandoned, Elnor realized. Hugh thought Elnor would fly away on his ship and leave him to this ruin, to face any consequences still to come on his own. As Picard would have done, had Elnor not followed. As the Federation had done years ago, not just to Hugh and the former Borg on the Artifact, but to Seven’s Icheb as well.

Captain Rios’ firm voice broke through Elnor’s unhappy epiphany. 

“ _Hermano_ , time to go.”

Elnor tapped the badge. “Go without me. This will not happen again.” He turned his gaze to Hugh as he spoke, let the resolve in his voice carry a promise. “My help is needed here.”

He knew the others wouldn’t understand his decision, and he would not explain what had happened. Raffi and Captain Rios were good people, this he believed; if he told them about this slaughter, they would have been willing to give aid. But there was nothing they could do here. There wasn’t a way to safely evacuate the others on this vessel, and he knew without asking that Hugh wouldn’t leave his people behind any more than he would have sacrificed Elnor or Picard for his own safety. And so there was no use in delaying them, not when they were far more vital to Picard’s mission.

A pause, then Rios spoke again. “Everybody here thinks you’re crazy.” 

“And brave.” Dr. Jurati’s voice, faint and off-side.

“And brave,” Rios echoed.

No. Hugh was the brave one, the one who endured the dangers of this hostile alien relic for the sake of others. Elnor could not have turned his back on this desperate isolation and ever felt at peace with himself again.

Hugh was looking to him now, a dull mix of confusion and disbelief on his face. Elnor rose and extended his hand, unsure if Hugh could trust him now, but desperately hoping he would. Relief washed over him when Hugh gripped his wrist and pulled himself to his feet; Elnor was committed entirely to this fight, but he could not navigate this place alone. Impulsively, he slid his hand around to the nape of Hugh’s neck, offering him a moment of warmth against the chill of the Artifact, the grounding contact of skin against skin. Hugh was not alone in this fight either. Not now, not ever again. 

Hugh’s eyes, one night-hued, the other blue as summer skies, met his, and he nodded wordless understanding to Elnor’s silent vow. He took Elnor’s hand and led the way once more into the shadowed maze of the Artifact.

“ _Adios_ , kid.”

Rios’ farewell followed them into the dark.

* * *

Hugh moved with purpose, outstripping Elnor’s longer stride in moments. Elnor could see the grief and shock falling away as righteous, avenging fire rose within him. 

“We’re going back to the queencell?” Elnor ventured. 

“I’d forgotten the immense power hidden there,” Hugh affirmed. “Maybe I was afraid I’d be tempted to use it. But now…” Fury pulled his voice taut as a drawn bowstring. “I promised to defend and protect the xBs. I failed them all. I’ve been a fool!” 

Hugh grabbed Elnor’s sleeve as they rounded into another corridor, pulling him close. 

“We are going to take this cube away from them forever!”

Elnor believed him entirely. Hugh was a light that burned star-bright in this oppressive place. A hope that would not be snuffed out or compromised, no matter the adversity. Elnor did not see how the two of them would enact this impossible plan, but his faith that Hugh would reveal the path to him was absolute. It was clear to him now - Hugh’s cause must be his own. This rare strength of spirit and compassion could not be allowed to wither, neglected in darkness.

Before Elnor could form the words to pledge his oath, another voice knifed through the air.

“That sounds like a treaty violation to me.” The Zhat Vash colonel stepped into view. Her cruelly satisfied smile made Elnor burn to cut her head from her shoulders, but he stayed close to Hugh, waiting for her guards to reveal their full number. 

“Did you really think you were not being watched?” she gloated. “And not just a treaty violation - open insurrection. I’m grateful. I’m authorized to kill you now.”

Elnor heard Hugh suck a breath, felt him start forward to take payment for his fallen from this serpent’s hide. Elnor raised an arm to hold him back, never taking his eye from the enemy.

 _Let me do the fighting._ Hugh had protected him before. Elnor drew his blade to do his part.

He was Qowat Milat in that moment, in heart, if not in fact. He finally knew, finally felt in his very soul what it was to be _qalankhkai_ , to pledge his sword without hesitation or resentment. To feel the rightness of a cause so firmly that it resonated down to his foundations. To know his life would be a small price to pay in service to another if he could in any way be the weight that tipped the scales to hope. 

He _understood._

And he let it slip through his fingers. 

He allowed himself to be baited, distracted. Then the Zhat Vash was beyond reach, and Hugh lay on the cold deck plates, his life bleeding away between his fingers.

Again, Elnor had no words for him. No oath to reassure that Elnor would defend those he left behind, no comfort as Hugh choked out his final instructions. There was a spear through his heart, striking him dumb and breathless, leaving him helpless to do more than desperately press Hugh’s questing palm against his cheek, as if he could somehow cup the guttering candleflame of his life in his hands and protect it.

Hugh died thanking him for a brief moment of hope. Elnor did not even have the words for goodbye.

Elnor had abandoned him, in the end. He pledged his sword to a man who shielded him with his life, and all his vaunted oath was good for was to leave him gasping out his last breaths to a mute fool. That thought, that shame chased him deeper into the ship. He left Hugh’s body there, defenseless. He didn’t know what happened to dead xBs here - were they butchered for the last of their implants, like Seven’s friend? Dumped into some recycling shaft without care or ceremony? Or just left to rot until someone noticed?

These were thoughts to torture himself with, an indulgence he couldn’t afford.

He needed to find another xB and take them to the queencell, as Hugh had said. What would need to be done once there, he didn’t know. He could only hope the xBs would remember the power behind the queencell, as Hugh had.

Even that mission was beyond him, he realized, as klaxons began echoing through the cube. The Zhat Vash knew their quarry now, and they had the advantage. Elnor couldn’t have found his way back through the twists and turns of the ship to the relative safety of the transit conduits, even without this danger at his back. He fled blindly, ducking into whichever shadow or corridor would keep him from sight of the swarming guard patrols. 

It was a hunt that went on for hours, until Elnor found himself at a dead end, breathless and exhausted. 

_No._

He would not end things here, waiting meekly for his capture and death. He pressed his palm to the blank metal, seeking any kind of handhold, trying not to look at the drying streaks of scarlet across his fingers. 

The wall shifted under his hand. Elnor leapt away, wide-eyed as the panels retreated into the deck plating, opening the way for him. He didn’t understand… but there was also nowhere else to go. He stepped through and found himself within an incomplete room - the far wall was missing, leaving the room open to a drop that vanished into a depthless gloom and a view of a distant tower of identical alcoves and open walkways, a metallic cliffside crawling with frantic figures. 

Elnor went low along the floor; distant or not, he was not going to chance being spotted by his hunters. He pressed himself into the farthest corner, knees drawn up to his chest to make himself as small as he could. The room was dark and bleak as the rest of the cube; the only object within was a desk terminal, the transparent touch screens still active. Technology that was beyond his use.

Elnor bowed his head. He could not give in to despair, he could not make his failure complete. But he could see no way forward, not alone.

A glimmer in the dark caught his eye. A bauble dangled beneath the desk, below the eyeline of anyone standing upright, but within easy reach of whoever would be working the station. A transparisteel “dogtag” bearing the emblem of the Fenris Rangers, identical to the distress beacon Seven had given Picard.

Elnor looked to the desk again, skimming the correspondence on the dimly-lit screens. Saw Hugh’s sign-off at the bottom. His gaze flicked back to the sealed door, then down to the dried blood slowly flaking away from his skin.

Even in death, his _rrhadam_ showed him the way. 

He activated the beacon, enfolded it in his stained hands as he curled himself around a fresh wave of grief and anger, and prayed for the strength to endure until help arrived.

* * *

Elnor followed in Seven’s wake as they assailed the cube anew, leaving a trail of dead guards to mark their path from the bleak office chamber to the queencell. Elnor didn’t think it was the same way he’d come with Hugh; he was alert for Hugh’s body, but saw no sign, not even blood to mark where he fell. He vowed to find him, if they survived whatever Seven had in mind. If nothing else, his _rrhadam_ would be laid to rest with care and dignity.

He watched as Seven became one with the Artifact, consumed with such awe at the terrible wonder of the sight that even her heartbroken rage and the possibility of his own assimilation couldn’t quell his curiosity.

Seven turned away from his questions with a ghost of the same exasperation that he’d seen on the face of so many of his sisters in the Qowat Milat.

“Annika still has work to do.”

Even the dismissal was familiar enough that he could not suppress a smile. He drew close as she recovered from her severed connection to the xBs, for he was not yet finished with his questions.

“Can you find Hugh? Please?”

When she looked to Elnor this time, her eyes were her own again. He could see she already had an answer for him. 

“Follow me.”

Her march out of the queencell was as unerring as the path to it and the journey was brief.

Four xBs stood vigil over Hugh, like the honor guard of a Proconsul lying in state. One crouched beside his body, a tentative hand on his shoulder, as if fearing a firmer touch might somehow do more harm. 

They were entirely unlike Seven and Hugh to Elnor’s eyes. All four were chalk-pale, hairless, and encased in black exo-armor. The scars marking the former sites of their implants were so fresh that they seemed more wounded than healing. The slightest of them was missing their arm below the elbow. They were so vulnerable, so forlorn, that Elnor wondered if they had gone looking for Hugh on their own or if Seven had deliberately directed them away from the fighting.

Seven went to one knee beside Hugh’s body, gently displacing the worried xB. Hugh still had one hand to his throat; Seven pulled it carefully away, revealing unmarked skin darkened by a smear of blood.

Elnor’s heart leapt. “He… Seven? Is he...?”

She shook her head.

Hugh’s eyes stared up at nothing, blank and glassy. Elnor remembered standing at Hugh’s side among the slaughtered xBs, surrounded by those empty gazes. He remembered the oath he’d never given voice to. He looked away as hot tears blurred his vision.

“You idiot,” Seven murmured. It took Elnor a moment to realize the words were for Hugh. Gently, more gently than Elnor would have believed of her, she closed his eyes. “You gave them too much.”

The smallest of the xBs crouched beside Seven, gripped the sleeve of her jacket urgently with their good hand.

“Hugh must not die.”

The words were spoken with a mechanical reverberance, but none could have mistaken the beseeching tone as they (“she”, Elnor realized) pleaded with the only authority left to her for the life of her friend.

Seven flashed the xB an intense look, then turned back to Hugh. 

“We’ll see. Help me get him to the Grey Zone infirmary.”

Seven and the other three xBs lifted Hugh’s body like spear bearers at a funeral procession and moved into the gloom of the corridor. The smallest trailed at their heels. Elnor fell into place on the same side as her maimed arm, alert to danger, his heart drumming in his chest with barely contained hope.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, much appreciation to iwritesometimes for the beta read! ♥

Regardless of being a place of healing, the infirmary was as unwelcoming as the rest of the Artifact; the additional lighting installed overhead only served to highlight the stark, hard lines of the black metal walls. It was in disarray, silent, save for the occasional sharp-edged, fragmented growls and whines of the power fluctuations throughout the Artifact, and empty of any living soul.

“Take him,” Seven snapped, abandoning her hold on Hugh to Elnor. She strode over to one of the diagnostic beds and jerked her head at the pallet before turning her attention to the readout screen. “Put him there. Then I need you to find me three empty hyposprays.”

Elnor had expected to be ordered aside as he had been in the queencell. He was grateful to be made useful instead, even if he didn’t understand what was happening. He helped the three xBs lower Hugh's body carefully to the bed, then began hunting.

“What can we do?”

Seven was already tearing through the infirmary’s supplies, shoving equipment aside as it got in her way. “I need adrenaline, cortical stimulators, pulse regulators… anything we can use to kick-start his system.” She spilled an armful of equipment onto the powerless anti-grav cart beside Hugh’s bed. “Borg have specialized nanoprobes in their bloodstreams that repair damage to implants and organic components. But they wear out over time…” She twisted a thoracic hypodermic injector open, careful of the needle, and slotted a vial of clear liquid into the chamber. “Borg implants generate new nanoprobes. I’ve still got plenty of Borg tech in me, so I still have a functional healing factor…”

“But Hugh doesn’t,” Elnor finished.

“He wasn’t taken as young as I was. And he was first in line to let the Federation’s doctors rip his implants out.” Her voice was sharp, but brittle as glass. She tried to talk herself out of looming despair, Elnor realized. She could not make herself vulnerable to hope, but neither was surrender an option. Seven thrust out her hand for a hypospray, then pressed it to her neck, filling the empty vial at the instrument’s base with blood. “Whatever nanoprobes he has left must have sealed up the wound too damn late to do any good. If we’re lucky, they’ve been holding off brain damage and decomposition. But if there were enough there to get him functioning again, he’d have vital signs by now. At best, what we’ve got is marginal - and failing - stasis for an intact corpse.

“So.” Seven used the remaining hyposprays to collect blood from two of the xBs; they stood obediently, giving the procedure only momentary attention before turning back to Hugh. “I load his bloodstream with nanoprobes, and hope they’ll revive him if I can just… get a fucking twitch out of his system.” She unsheathed the utility knife from her belt and slapped it down on the cart. “Get that thing off him,” she ordered, nodding toward Hugh.

Elnor tugged at the black harness crossing over Hugh’s chest, frowning when he could find no hint of a clasp or buckle. Without another second’s hesitation, he used Seven’s knife to saw through the tough material, then tossed it away. The heavy uniform shirt came off more easily, baring skin and scars only partially covered by the grey tee beneath. The shirt’s neck and right shoulder were soaked with Hugh’s blood. Elnor’s stomach tightened. If he’d waited, if he’d helped staunch Hugh’s wounds, would it have been enough? Would the nanoprobes have been able to save him then?

_Stop it._

Those actions were past. The universe was providing him a rare second chance to right a terrible mistake, and he could not squander it on self-pity. Before he could call to her, Seven stood across from him, fixing unfamiliar medical devices to Hugh’s brow and chest. She emptied the blood-filled hypos into Hugh’s neck, one after the other. Her fingers flew over the diagnostic panel. Her focus was total; Elnor and the xBs might as well not have existed. A high-pitched whine shrilled at the very upper range of Elnor’s hearing; Hugh’s body twitched aimlessly on the pallet, like a headless beast unaware it was already dead.

“Come on,” Seven murmured, inputting the commands again. Again, the mindless, aborted movements from Hugh’s body… but this time, vital readings stuttered to life on the panel. Thready, erratic, but there. Seven slammed the hypodermic into Hugh’s chest, injecting the contents directly into his heart. The diagnostic chirp marking his heartbeat remained faint… but began to steady. To fall into an actual rhythm. 

Elnor took a breath, but his chest still burned; there was too much emotion to make room for even air.

“He’s alive.” The world blurred. Elnor let the tears fall, unashamed.

“He’s breathing and he has a heartbeat,” Seven countered. She murmured the words, all but whispered them. “He’s not alive until he wakes up. Assuming none of what I just did finishes him off before then. Assuming he’s still… Hugh when he wakes up.” Seven frowned and turned away from the bed before Elnor could ask what she meant.

“I have to get this fucking cube locked down. Keep him warm.” She nodded to the little cluster of xBs standing over Hugh. “You four stay here. I’ll know if anything happens to him.”

Elnor wiped his eyes and nodded at Seven’s retreating back. He understood why she couldn’t stay. Hope could be too painful to bear, at times. Even now, the possibility that Hugh might not recover was almost too much for him to consider. Instead, he found a thermal blanket among the supplies and tucked it around Hugh.

“Please live,” he murmured, brushing his fingers against one cool cheek. “I’ll be a better qalankhkai to you this time, Hugh. Even… even if you don’t want me to stay, just live.”

Elnor braced his hands against the bed. He could feel every bruise, every strained muscle and near-miss of the last few terrifying hours creeping into his awareness, and he needed to sit before he fell over. There weren’t any chairs in the infirmary, Elnor realized. No more than there had been in Hugh’s office. Comfort was no consideration in this place. 

The four xBs were clustered at the head of Hugh’s bed, like guardian spirits in a bedtime story. He knew little about the Borg, save the horrific tales the North Station spacers brought with them, and even less of ex-Borg. But he had seen hopelessness and deprivation on Vashti. He understood worry and care and pain. These wounded people were not overt, but their upset was plain to anyone who had eyes to see - how they banded together for comfort, only just brushing against each other for the reassurance of touch, how their eyes only left Hugh to look to each other. He understood that much… and he wanted the comfort of their company as much as he wished to soothe their distress.

He settled on the floor beside Hugh’s bed, then, after a moment, gestured to the xBs to join him. It seemed that they meant to stand vigil as much as he did, but there was no need for that to be quite so literal.

They glanced Elnor’s way as one, considered him, then accepted the invitation. They knelt, sat with legs crossed or outstretched, regarding Elnor with expressions that ranged from wary reserve to open curiosity.

Elnor, for his part, couldn’t suppress his own curiosity, even with the weight of worry and heartache pressing down on him. They weren’t all human, he could see that at a closer look. The one-armed woman, the smallest one, was Bajoran. The tallest was a woman, a human, as was one of the men, or perhaps they were a human-like species like Betazoids. The last was another man, a Bolian, though he could only tell from the ridge of cartilage running from the peak of his head to the point of his chin. His innate blue skintone was obscured by the unnatural pallor that afflicted so many of the xBs he’d seen thus far.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I was too worried about Hugh to greet you properly. I’m Elnor. What are your names?”

The little Bajoran considered. “We have not chosen names. My designation is First of Three. Second of Three.” The Bolian nodded acknowledgement. “Third of Three.” The human man blinked Elnor’s way. “Five of Seven.” The human woman nodded, attempted something like a smile; the corners of her mouth pulled back more than up.

Elnor smiled back, even managed to scrape up the heart for a joke. “We have something in common, Five of Seven. I was adopted too.”

First of Three seemed to turn his words over for a moment. “Yes,” she decided. “Five of Seven was alone. The only one of her unit revived. Inclusion was necessary. She was assim…” Another moment of consideration. “She was adopted into this unit.”

These were the people Admiral Picard spoke of as a malignancy.

Elnor frowned down at his knees. What would happen to the xBs if Hugh never woke up? Would Seven stay and protect them? She was brave and fierce, but also so _frightened_ of her heart. He didn’t know her, couldn’t say if she could endure for long the pain etched into the very bodies of these people. But he would stay. Even if he had to do so alone, he would stay with them. Elnor knew he couldn’t replace Hugh, but he would devote his hands, his sword, and his heart to these people. He would learn what it took to be a light in this dark place. But what if the Federation scientists wanted him to leave? Romulans were still untrustworthy in the minds of so many Federation races. And what if the Federation decided to abandon this place altogether without the support of the Free State? Or turned it over to them entirely? What then?

Had it been only a day since he’d stepped between Hugh and the murderous Zhat Vash, so sure that he’d finally found his purpose in the universe? Now there was nothing before him but uncertainty.

A spasm of movement from Hugh’s bed and a shrill cacophony of alerts from the medical monitor pulled Elnor back into the moment. He leapt to his feet as Hugh lurched into a sitting position, hands at his throat.

* * *

Something was wrong. A frigid blight had taken root at his core, sending wraith-like tendrils of cold through bone and blood, icy needles of pain through every nerve. 

Hugh struggled for breath and the will to push past the pain. They were all in danger. He couldn’t remember from what, but he had to save them. He knew how. He just.

Needed. To. Move.

He was upright. He was dizzy and sick. He could hear the medical monitors going off, years out of place. The surgeries were long over; he was as free of the Borg as he could ever be. He tried to speak, but all that came was a croak of sound and a belch of air so foul that his agonized body convulsed, retching, on the heels of it.

“Hugh!”

Pressure on his upper arms, warming the skin beneath. He was grateful for the grounding touch, but the desperation carried on his name concerned him. He blinked his eyes open, the lids scraping and burning against his eyes. His ocular implant hit him with a dizzying scroll of information at once; the Artifact was in almost as bad a condition as he was. He flinched and squinted the implant shut as he tried to orient himself.

The harsh overheads of the sickbay cutting through the eternal half-night of the Artifact were familiar, but not at all comforting. How had he been hurt? And there was a face bare inches from his own… young, intense, Romulan. Not familiar, but known, and bringing so many answers with it.

“Elnor.” It hurt to speak, but it was a relief to know he could. He remembered now. Elnor barring his path to the Romulan who had murdered his charges. Elnor placing himself between Hugh and the Zhat Vash security detail, fighting on his behalf. And now they were in sickbay. Hugh swallowed, but that offered no relief; his throat only stuck to itself. He touched Elnor's face, frowning at the bruises there, hurts he had no memory of. “Elnor, are you all right?”

Tears welled in Elnor’s dark eyes as his expression crumbled. In the next moment, Hugh was enfolded in a warm, too-tight embrace and Elnor’s face was hidden against his shoulder, soaking his shirt with tears.

“My heart overflows to hear your voice again,” Elnor managed, his words muffled and broken. “I thought you were lost, Hugh. Nothing could put me nearer to right than seeing you alive.”

The sudden outpouring of emotion left Hugh silent and stunned. He returned the embrace reflexively, unable to resist yearning just a little toward Elnor’s warmth, but finally, reluctantly, pulled away.

“How badly was I hurt? I don’t… I don’t remember anything after you engaged her guards.”

Elnor kept his arms loosely around Hugh, his tear-streaked face somber. “You died, Hugh. I… I couldn’t…” Elnor swallowed and looked away. “Your nanoprobes sealed up your injuries, but not quickly enough to save your life.”

Another motion drew Hugh’s attention, mercifully distracting him from Elnor’s revelation. 

“Oh.” He sat up straighter at the sight of the four xBs, only a few steps away and watching him and Elnor intently. He knew this little self-formed unit; they were among the more recently reclaimed souls on the Artifact. They weren’t really verbal yet, but he suspected that was more because they were skeptical of the BRP’s intentions than because they didn’t comprehend or couldn’t respond when spoken to. Hugh had to push down the reflexive anger at the sight of their barely-healed skin grafts, swaths of violent color against wraithlike complexions. He fiercely hated the practice of removing an xB’s prosthetics and implants as soon as they were retrieved from stasis. It was frightening enough when an xB awoke with their connection to the Collective severed; to awaken with the perception that they’d been damaged as well as abandoned only compounded that trauma. But to allow a Borg time to recover and, stars forfend, _consent_ to the removal of their prosthetics was laughable to the Romulan Free State, who framed the removal as a security issue and themselves as benevolent simply because their version of scavenging _usually_ left the xB alive at the end. And it hadn’t been a hill worth dying on so far as the Federation had been concerned. 

Hugh exhaled a shaking breath, reminded himself that his anger wasn’t meant for these four. They were probably confused and frightened and had wandered to this relative quiet in the tumult. He had to figure out what they needed first, then he could… focus on having been dead.

“Hello.” He didn’t trust his legs, but offered them as much of a smile as he could manage from the bed. “It’s all right, I’m just recovering. Are any of you injured? Do you need… oh.”

For the second time in a span of minutes, Hugh found himself at the center of an impulsive hug, this time surrounded on almost every side by xBs. Elnor scooted clear at once, making room for long-limbed Third of Three to join the cluster of relieved souls.

“Hugh must not die.” A fierce, blurted declaration from slightly-built First of Three.

“We were afraid,” Third of Three murmured. “We are more alone without you.”

“I’m sorry.” Hugh hugged them back as best he could with his half-numb limbs. “I’m sorry for all of this.” But he couldn’t stop smiling either and tightened his embrace. To have all of them open up so much, all at once? It was astonishing. It was _vindicating._ He’d seen all along the closeness between them, but it was so hard to make others see - to make them believe - that just because the bonds of affection and compassion were expressed differently, that didn’t mean they didn’t exist. Even those ostensibly here to help the xBs had a hard time believing in it. “What happened?”

“The queen woke us.” 

“You weren’t there.” 

“We could hear everyone except you.”

“So we found you. And…” Very quietly. “And the other missing.”

Ice skipped down Hugh’s spine; Elnor must have gotten someone to the queencell after all. “I’m so sorry you had to see that, but… the queen? Who…?”

“Hugh!” Seven strode into the sickbay, only a beat shy of actually running. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Hugh slouched down into his little huddle of xBs. He was happy to see Seven - even relieved, in a guilty sort of way - but they always fell into the same pattern around each other these days. And he was so unsettled and exhausted that a fight was the last thing he wanted.

“Hello, Seven. I’ve missed you too.” 

Seven scoffed quietly, then marched up to look at Hugh’s readouts. The xBs retreated to the opposite side of the bed, where Elnor waited. Hugh couldn’t help a quiet swell of pride at how close they stood to him, even brushing shoulders and elbows with him in a mute attempt at connection. Elnor, a near stranger, had done something to convince them to expand their little bubble of trust. He’d have to ask them about it later.

“So…” Hugh lay back down. His head was swimming and he didn’t trust his balance, even just to sit up. Elnor shifted the bed so that he was at least on an incline; Hugh offered him a nod of thanks before turning back to Seven. “How… how dead was I?”

“Three hypos full of unfiltered xB blood and very crude jump-start dead. The nanoprobes should prevent an incompatibility reaction, but you’re in even worse shape than you look.”

Hugh brought his hand to his neck again, resisted the urge to look to First and the other xBs. That had been close. So close. “Fill me in on what happened while I was… out?”

“Elnor evaded their security long enough to find your Ranger beacon and call for help. He told me your plan.” Seven gave him a sharp look. “And do not fucking apologize. It had to be done. The Romulans never should have had a claim to this ship in the first place, let alone all the lives on it.”

Hugh’s guts clenched. This wasn’t a new argument between them, but this was more than an “I told you so.”

“Are you all right?”

“I’m…” She frowned. “I’m not _fine_ but I’m handling it. I plugged myself into the cube, but… it wasn’t the Borg Collective. We’re cut off and. It’s. I’m too different now. I could feel all of them, Hugh, even the drones in stasis. I could hear how much they wanted the security of the collective, but… we weren’t one voice. I was just the loudest of so many. I could see everything, feel all their worries and fears and anger. It didn’t stop when I unplugged from the ship. I have… my own little mini-collective running around in my head right now.”

God. Hugh reached for her hand. Seven wasn’t typical of most xBs. Even among people she loved, touch was not her first instinct for comfort, and the years since Icheb’s death - the betrayals, the grief, the empty promises from those she’d trusted - had not made her more willing to reach out. But he couldn’t listen to what she’d sacrificed and not at least offer some comfort.

“I’m sorry,” he rasped. “I wouldn’t have asked you to.”

Seven let out an exasperated sigh, but squeezed his hand in return.

“No, and you’re damn lucky Elnor would. You did your dive back into the Collective, Hugh. Don’t be a martyr on top of an optimist.”

“You make that sound like a curse.”

“It's yours, if nothing else.” Seven got him a glass of water from the replicator. “There were casualties. When the Romulans realized they were losing control of the ship, they spaced the drones.”

Hugh’s heart dropped. There had been nearly five thousand drones still in stasis, even after more than four years of active reclamation. A lifetime of work. More than. And all those helpless souls had been snuffed out for spite.

“All of them?” he managed.

“Almost. I brought the hull integrity field back up before they could completely flush the stasis docks, but - the cube started regenerating. It subsumed the integrated Romulan technology. Transporter included. So the installed systems were… _are_ breaking down while the native ones are building up again.”

“How many could you save?” 

“About six hundred. The rest drifted out of range or… were torn apart when the Romulan ships went to warp.”

“And the xBs?”

“The Romulans tried to finish them off. We gave their leader bigger problems to worry about before she made it to the general quarters, but the recovery ward was a massacre.”

She’d targeted the most helpless of his people. Those just mobile after their first surgeries, just learning to grasp any concept of self, still trying to comprehend everything that had happened to them. Most of them probably hadn’t realized they should try to run. She might as well have been firing her disruptor into the skulls of infants.

Someone was talking to him, but he couldn’t seem to focus on the words. Someone touched his hand, curling their fingers around his own. He blinked back into the moment. The glass in his hand was spider-webbed with cracks; Elnor was trying - uselessly - to ease the pressure of his grip before it shattered.

Hugh took a shuddering breath and set the glass oh so carefully on the cart as the overhead lights began to flicker. He would vent his grief later. Right now, his first duty was to aid a disoriented, freshy-traumatized population of xBs stranded on a cube that was either subsuming or rejecting most of the technology that had been installed to make it habitable in the first place.

“Are the internal comms still up? We need to assemble the staff and decide how we’re going to help the xBs deal with this. Including you.” Because, he realized, he was sitting on the outside of this unique phenomenon. The only xB on the Artifact who hadn’t experienced this mini-collective of Seven’s. 

“The guards took them all,” Second of Three said, and Seven nodded confirmation.

“He’s right. The Romulans escorted all of the Federation staff and BRP volunteers off-ship, along with their own scientists and the _uhlan_ grunts. There’s no one left alive on this cube but us xBs.” A pause. “And Elnor.”

Elnor was frowning at the new information. “Why would the Free State evacuate the BRP personnel along with their own people? They’re no allies to the Federation.”

“I’ll bet it was more an abduction than an evacuation,” Seven pointed out. “But you’re right,” she allowed, “it still doesn’t make sense. Why take the time to usher a bunch of Federation civilians to safety while the project was coming down around their ears? The Romulan military doesn’t believe in a duty to mercy, not even to their own.”

The answer came to Hugh in a heartbeat, a terrible realization that cut through the fog of grief and exhaustion like a lightning bolt.

“The fucking treaty…!” He tried to stand. His unsteady legs spilled him into Elnor’s arms, but he took it as a momentary setback, gripping Elnor’s strong shoulders and stubbornly pulling himself to his feet.

“Hugh, you need to rest.”

“We don’t have time for that, any of us. Seven, I need access to the long-range comms.”

“They’re out.” She fixed him with a hard gaze. She had been a warrior drone, Hugh reminded himself distantly. With her enhancements, she could easily put him back on that bed over any of his objections. He stood up straighter. “Hugh, what does the treaty have to do with this?”

“The Artifact is the most valuable trove of scientific knowledge and bio-technology in Romulan or human history, Seven. They’re not going to just give it - _us_ \- up. As soon as they’re able, the Free State is going to take their grievances to the Federation. They’re going to tell them how their pet Borg led a murderous insurrection, they’re going to point to the treaty terms to show how they’re due reparations, probably in the form of any surviving drones and xBs, and the civilian personnel are going to be excellent bargaining chips either way.

“Think about it. If there’s even a chance that the Free State can negotiate their way back onto the Artifact later, they can claim they saved their Federation colleagues from the rampaging Borg. And even if the Federation looks at me as a citizen first and a Borg second and takes a hardline stance regarding their assault on me, the Free State can negotiate a straight-up exchange of bodies - Federation scientists for xBs and drones.”

Elnor looked from Hugh to Seven. 

“Would the Federation really do that? Sacrifice all of you to appease the Free State?” 

“They’d already sacrificed every xB on this cube for access to a fraction of the research the Romulans were pulling out of it,” Seven said. “I doubt they’d lose any sleep over handing over the insurrection leader. Or an xB who willingly re-interfaced with a Borg cube.” 

Hugh swallowed hard, forcing down anger trying to claw its way through his chest.

“That’s a possibility. It’s also possible that, once this cube is in Federation hands, they’ll be extremely reluctant to hand it back to the Romulans. And being able to cite attempted murder of a Federation citizen, kidnapping of others, and abuse and extermination of helpless refugees would be a wonderful pretext to keep their hands on it. 

“But fear of the Borg does run very, very deep… so yes, the worst case scenario here could be devastating. For me and Seven. For the xBs still on the Artifact. Even for the Earthside BRP and the xBs already living within the Federation. We need to get out ahead of this.”

“There’s another problem,” Seven cut in. “I’m not taking this cube back to the Federation. One of those Romulans is tailing Picard’s vessel. I'm going to intercept.”

Hugh shook his head. “Time is our primary advantage here. Any report the Free State makes to the Federation will need to be vetted through their official channels first. We can get there ahead of them. We can tell the Federation what really went on here…”

“Stopping the fucking Romulans is more important than playing politics, Hugh!”

“‘Playing.’” Hugh’s anger overflowed, but it was a cold, sharp-edged thing that brought his frantic thoughts into clear focus. “Do you think I don’t know the only way the Federation will even consider seeking justice for the _thousands_ of us murdered here today is to make it politically expedient to do so? Do you think I’m going to forget I was nearly one of them? We have a chance to rescue the survivors from the Free State, to finally get them under the protection of the Federation- ”

“The same Federation that’s willing to look the other way any time we’re slaughtered or exploited. Do you really think they should have this cube any more than the Romulans? You’re thinking of the eight hundred people you _might_ be able to save, but if you give the Federation access to the technology in this cube, sooner or later they _will_ use it. And then what?”

“And what will you do? Travel the galaxy in a wreck of a Borg cube?” And God, he felt the appeal in that idea even as he voiced it. To just turn their backs on every entity that wanted a piece of them - or simply wanted them dead - and have a place of their own. But this hungry ghost ship couldn’t be it. “How far would you get before every power from here to the Gamma Quadrant amassed a fleet to blow you to pieces? We can’t fight the whole galaxy, Seven. And at least there’s a chance the Federation will use the technology in this ship to actually help us.”

Seven frowned. “I know, right now, that Picard’s in trouble and I owe him one. But I can get you someplace safe, with a secure comm line.”

She was taking the ship. She was taking the xBs into the middle of an unknown situation after everything they’d been through. 

As easily as if she’d read his mind, Seven closed the brief space between them, squeezed his shoulder. “I’ll look out for them, Hugh.”

Hugh breathed out and looked away. Seven was connected to them all. She couldn’t help but care - no, that wasn't fair. Even when it hurt, she _always_ cared. Just never enough to compromise, to stay and do the soul-grinding work of reclamation. Not on Earth, and certainly not here. He’d have trusted her with his life… but the lives of everyone he was responsible for? That was a much deeper cut. 

But what were his options? He desperately wanted to stay with the xBs on the Artifact, to evaluate, to help, to heal. But they needed him to speak for them more than they needed him heading into the unknown, especially now that Seven knew this ship better than even he could hope to.

Hugh swallowed his doubt. “All right. There are some things I need before I leave the ship. The… the xBs all have subdermal trackers.” Another dehumanizing “security” measure. “Can you access the data banks and get me a casualty list referenced by tracking number?” 

Seven nodded. “Meet me at the queencell in ten minutes.”

* * *

There was a sense of deja-vu, striding the corridors of the Artifact again with Elnor a step behind him. The same sense of furious, horrified unreality, as if he were walking through a nightmare. He had failed them all, and now he was leaving. 

The shadows all around them writhed. Hugh startled, stumbled, and found himself leaning against Elnor’s sturdy form again as his wavering vision firmed back into focus.

“You’re not recovered,” Elnor said. “Hugh, you should rest while you can. Tell me what you need, and I’ll retrieve it.”

“You won’t be able to. I made sure I’m the only one who can find it.” Hugh breathed deeply and forced himself upright once more. “I can’t fail them again.” 

His quarters were as he had left them, which wasn’t a surprise, exactly, but it wouldn’t have been the first time he’d come back to signs of tampering. But then, the Romulan colonel had seemed more cruel than effective, and Seven’s report of further atrocities seemed to only confirm that impression. Searching for signs of possible conspiracy with Picard once she’d lost him as a source of information likely hadn’t crossed her mind.

“There’s a shoulder bag at the bottom of the closet,” Hugh said, gesturing across the room. “And a spare PADD at the workstation. Bring them to me.”

Hugh walked to the far wall of the room, where a small juncture of relay lines met behind the wall plating. They were invisible to the naked eye - even his own - but his ocular implant read them as faintly glowing, glyph-like shapes. Hugh pressed his palm to a square of plating; it crawled from beneath his fingers in a hundred fractured shapes, revealing a small alcove in the wall.

Elnor was at his shoulder again, staring. 

“Does this ship keep all your secrets?” he asked softly, handing the bag over to Hugh.

Hugh shook his head. “This ship is one whole, Elnor, not a construction of many parts. It’s… I don’t have time to explain, but think of it like an organism made up of unspecialized cells. With the right commands, any part of this ship can become part of any system or a system in and of itself.” Hugh scooped a handful of data rods and isolinear chips out of the tiny hiding space and tucked them into the bag. “If you know how to talk to it, creating a cache no one else can find is quite simple.”

Hugh headed for the door; Elnor fell into step again.

“Why do you need those data rods?”

“The Free State monitors all information leaving and entering the Artifact, even personal journals. My reports to the Earthside BRP detailing the mistreatment of the people here were never transmitted.” Hugh’s grip on the bag’s strap tightened. “When I told the commander I would deliver those reports in person if I had to, he made it clear that the Free State would take my departure as a sign that the most urgent work of the Project had been completed to my satisfaction and that my… expertise was no longer needed.”

“If you’d left, they would have petitioned to replace you.”

“They wouldn’t have been able to bring a Free State representative on as director for the BRP, but… there aren’t many people in the Federation who have extensive experience with xBs. Fewer still who see them as people. And I couldn’t trust that the Federation would fight to keep me in the position. So. I stayed. I observed. I intervened and fought where I could. For all the good it wound up doing. And I kept records, waiting for an opportunity to smuggle them out.”

Elnor went silent, his dark gaze piercing as a hawk's. “Hugh? How long have you been on this ship?”

“From first day? Five years. We started the process of reviving xBs about four years ago.”

Hugh could tell his companion had more questions; he was grateful when he kept them to himself. It was increasingly taking all of his concentration to put one foot in front of the other.

Seven was waiting for them, the misty, faintly glowing portal of the spatial trajector ready to shunt them away.

“You’re looking for a one-way ticket to Earth?”

Hugh shook his head. “I thought so, but if I just appear at Starfleet HQ, this is going to land on the Earthside office as hard as it will me. I need enough distance to give them a heads up.”

Seven stepped away from the holographic control interface and handed Hugh a data rod, presumably the information he’d asked for. “Where else did you have in mind?”

“Good question.” Hugh frowned. “I’m not crazy about transporting blind, even onto a Federation world. Security doesn’t always remember to observe the citizen rights of an obvious xB, and being detained right now would be… very bad.”

“You could follow Picard to Nepenthe. I know someone there who’ll be sympathetic. And he’ll even be a familiar face - William Riker.”

“I… don’t know,” Hugh frowned. “We were never friends, and I haven’t seen him in over twenty years, Seven. I don’t think he’d help me for the Admiral’s sake.”

“No. But he’d help you for mine.”

“I thought you burned all your bridges with Starfleet.”

“Icheb’s first posting was on the _Titan_. He impressed his captain while he was there. And Riker was one of the few in Starfleet who did more than say what a damn shame his death was.” Seven’s jaw clenched. “He’d have offered more help, but I wasn’t going to ask him to leave his son’s deathbed for my revenge. He’ll help for Icheb's memory, if nothing else.”

Hugh nodded. He couldn’t think of a better option at the moment. Between Seven and Picard… that might be enough goodwill that he wouldn’t have to literally beg for Riker’s help. 

“All right.” He straightened up. “In case I don’t get to say it later, thank you for saving my life, Seven. Please look after them. And yourself.”

“Don’t worry. There aren’t many ships out there that can take on a Borg cube. Even a half-blind one.” Her arms were around him in a moment, holding him tight. Touch might not have been her comfort, but she was well aware it was his. “Don’t get yourself killed either, little brother. You stay safe so you can come back to them.”

Hugh nestled against the crook of her neck. “I’m older than you.”

“That’s never made a difference.” She squeezed him once, awkward and out of practice with affection, and headed back to the controls.

Hugh turned to Elnor, hand extended. “Thank you, Elnor. For being there in my darkest hour. When you catch up with Admiral Picard, let him know… well, let him know it was good to see him again. Despite everything.”

Elnor only stared, eyes wide and shocked as if Hugh had struck him a blow, then shook his head in mute denial. He clasped Hugh’s hand in both his own, no parting handshake, but a desperate entreaty. 

“Don’t turn me away,” he said, his tone shockingly close to pleading. “I am meant to serve your cause, Hugh, I know this as surely as I breathe. I can understand why you would doubt me: I failed you before, in my arrogance. But I promise, I will be a worthy qalankhkai to you and a protector to the xBs. Please. Don’t send me away. Let me prove myself.”

“I don’t understand,” Hugh managed, too surprised to even think of a question.

Seven grinned at them both through the lucent grid of the transporter’s holographic interface. “Hugh, you’re the only one in this room who didn’t realize you’d picked up a bodyguard.”

“Oh. I… Elnor, you don’t owe me any service. And where I’m going… I can’t say for certain how this is all going to end up.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Elnor insisted. “I give my oath to you freely, rrhadam. My place is at your side until we agree to part.”

There really wasn’t time to argue… and, in honesty, Hugh didn’t want to. Elnor had been around to witness the actions of the Romulans before Seven’s arrival and after his own death. Hugh knew he might well need his testimony. And, when it came down to it, Hugh knew he didn’t do well alone at the best of times. These were hardly the best circumstances, with him reeling physically and mentally, and Elnor had been nothing but steadfast through this brutal chaos.

“Then we’re both going to Nepenthe.” He nodded to Elnor once and freed his hand. “Seven?” 

“Coordinates are set. Good luck.”

He needed to leave. He _had_ to, for all their sakes. Hugh still felt the pull of his failures and responsibilities weighing him to the Artifact with every step, until the gate swallowed him.

* * *

Piercing white light stabbed down into Hugh’s eyes as he materialized, compounding his disorientation. He sat before he could fall; Elnor was beside him a moment later, hitting the ground in an atypically graceless kneel.

“All right?” Hugh managed.

“I’m dizzy,” Elnor admitted, “but it’s already passing. That was a strange transport. Are you well?”

“No worse than before,” he sighed, wiping at his watering eyes. “Just caught off guard. It’s been a while since I’ve seen sunlight.”

“Five years?” Elnor had that intense, searching expression on his face again, one that Hugh typically associated with a board member or Starfleet official about to ask a profoundly unwelcome question. But that made little sense in context with Elnor’s devoted attention.

“About five years,” Hugh affirmed. He blinked until the world beyond Elnor’s face came into focus. They were in the middle of a thickly-wooded forest, which was not at all where he’d expected to find himself. He pushed to his feet and offered Elnor a hand up, trying to fight down his unease with their surroundings. “I don’t suppose you’re familiar with wilderness survival.”

Elnor cocked his head. “We’re not lost. See?” He pointed a few feet away, to a bare spot on the leaf-strewn ground. “There’s a path.”

Hugh wasn’t sure the inches-wide patches of bare earth proceeding unevenly through the trees constituted a “path”, but Elnor seemed sure of himself and Hugh had no better ideas on where to go. They set off together, following the alleged path along the gentle slope of the wooded hillside.

The stillness of the forest, the way the dark, rich earth seemed to swallow up even their footsteps, put Hugh increasingly on-edge. The background hum of vital systems, the sound of footfalls on the deck plating, the quiet conversations of staff and xBs alike… this place seemed so lifeless and still without them. Absent surrounding Borg technology, even the data stream from his ocular implant had gone dead. 

Hugh cleared his throat.

“What was that you called me a minute ago? ‘Rrhadam?’ I don’t think my translator was able to parse it.” The lonely murmur of his own voice only highlighted the quiet all around them. He stepped quickly, closing the gap between him and Elnor to nothing.

Elnor considered. “It might not have made sense to the machine in context,” he explained. “The word only means ‘keeper’ or ‘guardian’ in Vriha Rihan; it’s archaic. Among the Qowat Milat, it’s understood to refer to the one a qalankhkai has pledged herself to, the one who embodies the cause. ‘Oath-keeper’ is the most literal translation.”

Hugh twitched a smile. “Well. It’s not ‘director,’ but it’s much better than what the guards have been calling me.”

Elnor didn’t return the expression, only reached out to steady Hugh as the slope went unexpectedly steep.

“I may look like them,” he said solemnly, “but I promise you, in my heart there is no common ground with the Zhat Vash or any who would treat you and the xBs so cruelly.”

Hugh winced. “I apologize, Elnor. I wasn’t even thinking of that. Just that you, Seven, and Picard were the first truly friendly faces I’d seen in awhile.”

Elnor nodded, finally returning the smile. “I understand, and I’m sorry that was so. But you will not lack for friendship while I’m your qalankhkai.”

The possibility that a “qalankhkai” might pledge themselves to a cause they found worthy while the “rrhadam” was someone they couldn’t bring themselves to like just added one more question to the long list writing itself at the back of Hugh’s mind. They’d reached the bottom of the hill; a glimpse of a building through the trees brought Hugh’s mind entirely back to the present. 

A two-story wooden cabin stood on supports in the middle of a semi-cleared area. Mid-morning sun glinted from the surface of a lake only a few yards beyond, and Hugh could see two figures sitting on the cabin’s raised deck. Once he and Elnor emerged from the trees, the owners of the house would have no trouble spotting them.

Elnor squeezed Hugh’s arm to draw his attention.

“Let me walk ahead.”

Hugh started to nod, but wound up stumbling a step forward instead, barely catching himself.

“It’s a good idea,” he managed. “But I think I’m going to need you to walk beside me instead.”

He was barely on his feet. Even with the nanoprobes, he was going to need to eat, drink, and rest before he was beyond simply “not dead” and actually recovering. And there just wasn’t time for that.

One of the two figures on the deck was on their feet before Hugh and Elnor left the tree line. It had to be Troi, sensing them before she actually saw them. Hugh leaned on Elnor’s shoulder as they started forward, wondering distantly what the Troi-Riker household would make of their approaching guests: an openly-armed Romulan in antiquated garb supporting an obvious former Borg wearing a blood-soaked shirt. 

Hugh almost laughed, but swallowed it down. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to wrestle any outburst back behind his teeth at this point, laughter, anger or tears. He had a mission he needed to complete before he could have his well-earned breakdown.

It was indeed Commander Deanna Troi staring down at them as they drew closer, with Captain Riker at her shoulder. Neither looked very different from the last time he had accessed their public files; aged and careworn, but in good health otherwise. Hugh straightened up as best he could to meet their confused scrutiny.

“Captain. Commander.”

Riker turned his suspicious gaze from Elnor to Hugh, stared another half-second before he realized just who had turned up on his doorstep.

“Hugh?!”

Hugh took a deep breath. “I’m sorry to impose, but I desperately need to borrow your comm system.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeeeeah. So between Del Arco's comments that the Federation had essentially abandoned the xBs and his comparison of Hugh to a prisoner functionary in a concentration camp, I tend to lean toward interpreting the state of life for the xBs on the Artifact as a very not good situation even before Sadist Barbie showed up. And it's gonna get more desperate before it gets better, but Hugh isn't going to be there for that part. :(


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, many thanks to iwritesometimes for the beta read! ♥

The Troi-Riker household was homey and warm, lived in and inviting. Hugh’s first steps over their threshold put him ill-at-ease, even aside from his exhaustion and spinning head, but there was no time to dwell on the why’s of that. There was information to be exchanged before anything else: reassurances that there was no way he and Elnor could have been followed, and a brief interrogation to verify Hugh’s identity, if nothing else.

He didn’t miss how the two former Starfleet looked at him and Elnor: Commander Troi with her gentle wariness and Captain Riker’s stern suspicion, an icy expression which went to absolute zero when Hugh asked if Admiral Picard was still present. Hugh wanted to rage at them. The Admiral had come to him for help first, would never have made it to Nepenthe without Hugh and Elnor, and all the misfortune that had befallen them was because they’d had the same goal as these two officers did now: to protect a friend. 

(A small voice at the back of Hugh’s mind asked if Picard was truly a friend to him, or if he just wanted that to be true. Had Picard told Riker and Troi nothing of their part in his escape for them to look at him so?) 

He didn’t have the will for anger; all he could manage was resignation. Suspicion, overt and otherwise, had been part of his existence since he woke on the _Enterprise_. There was no advantage to be gained in pressing these people about where Picard had gone. Seven would find Picard and Soji too. Hugh needed to look after his people.

They did give him permission to use their comm system, tucked away in a wood-paneled alcove at the back of the common room. Troi assured him the signal was secure and not easily traced. Hugh entered the codes for the Earthside BRP from memory with Elnor standing at his back. With any luck, the new Director had installed herself in his old office.

The holo materialized; Nuvol was indeed in his office. She hadn’t replaced the desk. Or his plants. She had changed her hair again - what had been a meticulously sculpted afro had been shorn down to a curly fuzz along the sides of her head, leaving Nuvol’s pointed ears entirely exposed. A row of five tight braids swept back gracefully along the curve of her skull. She’d decided against cosmetic surgery for her reclamation scars after all; they still cut down the warm, dark skin of her brow and cheek in precise red lines.

“Hugh.” Nuvol stared at him, dark eyes gone wide and white-rimmed in surprise, her melodious voice sharp with concern. “Hugh, _where have you been?_ Four years, and all the board does is tell us you’re alive and send us your reports…”

“Nuvol.” His throat was suddenly tight. The sight of a truly friendly, well-loved face threatened to undo him entirely - he wanted was to tell her _everything_. “Nuvol, I can’t talk. But you need to know. Something… something happened on the Artifact, and the political fallout is going to be bad. If anyone - the board, Starfleet Intelligence, the press, _anyone_ \- asks you about it, you haven’t heard anything, you know nothing of the situation. Make sure the rest of the staff knows. I’ll be in touch when I can.” 

He saw her shift into crisis mode at once, the set of her shoulders, the steel in her gaze. It did more to reassure him than Seven’s promises of vengeance or the grudging acceptance of secondhand allies ever could. She’d stood at his shoulder through so much - the escape from their original Cube, Lore’s manipulations, the dangers of an untamed planet. Even if he had to take the brunt of the fallout, at least he knew she would shield the rest of their people from it.

“The _minute_ you can,” she said firmly. “I’ll fill in Vik and the others. Be safe.”

He cut the link without replying, before the parts of him that remembered the easy security of love and friendship could rise up to destroy his resolve.

A warm hand settled on Hugh’s shoulder, squeezed firmly. Pulled him back into the moment. Elnor. Hugh squeezed his hand back without looking, and hoped it reassured him a fraction as much as Elnor’s presence grounded him. He’d known the young man only a handful of hours 

(Waking hours. How long had Elnor stood guard over his corpse?)

but Elnor seemed to seek touch as easily as a newly-awakened xB. Or maybe he just understood when it was needed, which was, to Hugh’s experience, more unusual.

Hugh entered the next link from memory as well. It would be past midnight in Glasgow; despite her position on the board of directors, Beverly Crusher had a heritage that coaxed her to live half a world away from the BRP facilities. 

Beverly was sleepy-eyed when she answered, but not yet dressed for bed. Her gaze cleared immediately, physician’s instincts sending her assessing gaze from his face to the bloodstains stiffening the collar and shoulder of his shirt. 

“Hugh, what happened?”

_“You died, Hugh.”_

“I’m not hurt,” he said, pushing the ghost of Elnor’s voice to the back of his mind. As distant as the comparison was, Beverly was the closest thing to a mother he’d ever known. She’d saved his life, spoken in defense of his nascent humanity, and cared for him in the aftermath of his dissimilation surgeries. The urge to reassure her was strong enough to shore up his fraying control. “I’m safe. I’m on Nepenthe.”

“Nepenthe?” Her attention snapped back to his face; her concern was no less keen than when she’d been assessing him for a possible wound. “Who sent you to Nepenthe?”

“No one. I mean… no one associated with the project.” He forced himself to focus. “Beverly, listen, please. We had to take the Artifact from the Romulans. They were killing us. _Executing_ us. They even spaced the drones still in stasis when it became clear we were resisting. There were casualties in the thousands. We had to get the xBs away from them.”

The sudden drive in Beverly’s eyes could have burned a path through space from Earth to Nepenthe. If he’d been answerable only to Beverly, Hugh might have taken some comfort in her anger. “I’ll arrange transport. What’s the situation? How many xBs are left? Do they need medical attention?”

_“The recovery ward was a massacre.”_

“I don’t… they’re not with me.” Hugh took a deep breath. Beverly’s face was blurring at the edges. He was unraveling. “They’re with Seven of Nine. She took the Artifact to aid Picard, but I don’t know where they are. What I need… I need you to let the Bureau of Treaties and Starfleet know that the Romulan Free State no longer has possession of the Artifact. Admiral Picard came aboard to save Dr. Asha from a Romulan faction trying to kill her.” He was distantly, wearily grateful for that bit of information Elnor had given him. “I helped them escape. The Romulans interrogated me and m-murdered the xBs to coerce me into telling where they’d gone…”

_“Be an obedient little drone, and they’re only witnesses to your good example.”_

He could feel fingernails digging into his scalp, the point of a Romulan knife at his throat as he choked on his own grief. He could hear the xBs’ last, pained gasps for air. The hiss of their bodies being cooked from the inside out by the effects of low-powered disruptor fire. The high, almost imperceptible whine of failing implants. A weak, broken sob that faded into a death rattle, and then nothing but that poisonous, measured voice in his ear…

He could hear Beverly outside of his memories, repeating his name.

“We had to take the Artifact from them,” Hugh managed, “but the Romulans abducted the Federation personnel and volunteer staff when they evacuated. I’ll have a full report soon. Tomorrow. But… I need you. I need the news to reach Starfleet before the Free State does, and it needs to come from someone who won’t put the xBs in the worst possible light as the default.”

“I can give the Bureau this information and be on the next ship to Nepenthe,” Beverly insisted.

“Have the BRP send a transport when they can, but I need _you_ there. I need someone who will speak for us like we’re people, Beverly, not walking piles of technology waiting to be harvested, or a threat to the Federation lurking in the shadows. Please.”

“All right.” Beverly let out a slow breath. Drew away from the holotransmitter, jaw set and brows drawn. She was worried for him, but his appeal had convinced her. That was what mattered. “I’ll pass this information on, and wait for your report. And I’ll send a transport for you. Send me your coordinates as soon as you can.”

Hugh nodded. “Thank you. It’s… there’s two of us. Me and a Romulan refugee who helped us on the Artifact.”

Beverly nodded. Hugh disconnected the link. A wave of dizziness closed over him as her face dissolved into nothing. He breathed in deep, braced himself and pushed to his feet. Elnor moved out of his path, silent as a shadow, attention on Hugh.

“I’m not going to fall over,” Hugh murmured. It wasn’t a lie; he made it as far as the kitchen table before he had to sit again. Or maybe he just couldn’t make himself care enough to keep moving. 

People were moving around him. Elnor at his shoulder. Riker and Troi approaching; there was a thaw in their manner he expected was entirely due to Beverly’s validation of him. That was familiar too, and he was still too weary for anger. Too drained to acknowledge their words. 

A girl put a steaming mug in front of him. “Kestra” from their personnel files. The other child was, as Seven had reminded him, dead.

More words, lilting at the end. A question.

No. He wasn’t OK at all.

Hugh managed to cover his face before the dam broke. He hid behind the meager shield of his own hands and sobbed for those he’d failed and those he’d abandoned, for his own fears and all the naive hopes and dreams he’d had for the xBs on the Artifact. For paying his debt to Picard with innocent blood. And for the inescapable truth: no matter how they strived to reclaim themselves, their violation at the hands of the Borg would always overshadow their humanity.

* * *

Elnor eyed the Starfleet officers warily, standing protectively close as Hugh wept in their sun-bright kitchen. He knew these two as Picard’s steadfast companions from the admiral’s stories, but those were half-remembered childhood tales. Here and now, they were strangers, and he did not trust the way they’d been watching Hugh, regardless of Seven’s assurances.

Captain Riker moved toward Hugh when his questions went unanswered, hand outstretched. Elnor stepped between them. He did not reach for his sword, though his fingers itched for it. This was not the Artifact, he reminded himself. This tall human was not the Zhat Vash colonel. It was vital to remember where he was, not where he had failed.

“Hugh has nothing to give you right now.” Elnor curbed his tone, mindful that he had come into this man’s house by the front door, but still firm. “He’s recovering from a terrible injury.” He couldn’t bear to speak of Hugh dying as candidly as he should. It felt as if speaking the words might somehow snatch the miracle of Hugh’s recovery away, leave him a blank-eyed corpse once more. “He needs to rest.”

“We have a bedroom he can use,” Commander Troi offered. Her voice was gentle. Reassuring. It reminded him of Mother Zani explaining the tenets of sacrifice to the youngest sisters. He wanted to trust in it. And, in truth, he knew he ultimately had no choice. They were despised people on a strange planet; there was nowhere else to go.

Elnor cupped the nape of Hugh’s neck, saying nothing, but hoping the grounding touch would rouse him now as it had in the aftermath of that brutal interrogation. His heart ached for this man, who strove so hard for his people in the face of a hostile universe. He wanted nothing more than to be to him all a qualankhkai should be to his rrhadam, a shield, a confidant, a source of strength and hope when all the rest of the universe was dark.

All he could offer him in the moment was to once more lend Hugh his shoulder as they followed the Starfleet commander upstairs. She ushered them into a bedroom that held many possessions, but carried almost no personal scent - a place preserved, but not lived in. Elnor nodded his thanks and helped Hugh to the bed. Hugh collapsed onto the edge of the mattress, and Elnor’s heart clenched.

“Are you all right?” He wished for a moment that he’d insisted Hugh drink the broth that had been put in front of him, thought to go back downstairs and get it, but Hugh was already shaking his head.

“Tired. I just need to sleep.” 

Elnor nodded. “It will only be a moment.” He forced himself to forget that this man was his oath-keeper, his purpose, and treat him with the same caring efficiency he would any sick or injured sister of the order. He eased his boots off and stripped him of his bloody shirt. Hugh was scarred beneath, terribly so, his pale skin pitted and trenched with injuries that Elnor couldn’t identify. The remnants of alien technology lurked beneath his skin, tracing his bones in shadowy outlines, breaking the surface here and there as if they meant to tear free of his body. But he was sound. Breathing. Whole. 

Elnor shut his eyes shut against a fresh rush of emotion. When he opened them, he noticed the commander staring at Hugh’s bared torso. Elnor moved to shield Hugh from her sight, gave his shoulder a squeeze before easing him down onto the pillow and pulling the blankets up over him. 

“Sleep. I’ll stay near.”

It seemed to be reassurance enough. Hugh closed his eyes.

* * *

Back downstairs, Elnor stood at the table with the Captain and Commander at either side of him. Elnor spoke first.

“This is an uncomfortable situation.” It was a relief to be able to finally speak candidly, to have this direct confrontation without getting in Hugh’s way. “You don’t trust us. And I do not wholly trust you - I’ve heard the Federation’s ideals, but what I’ve seen is how they leave people to suffer when it suits them.”

Captain Riker drew himself up, regarding Elnor with dispassionate pale eyes. Elnor braced himself for anger, but when the captain spoke, his voice was level. 

“I appreciate the candor. How would you suggest we put each other at ease, then?”

“Tell me why you mistrust us. If you doubt our intentions, I can answer any questions you have.” Elnor hesitated a moment, then spoke again, anticipating the first question. “I realize we’re intruding on your home. I apologize for that. Hugh wasn’t certain it would be safe for him to go directly to Earth, and Seven thought you might be willing to help us for Icheb’s sake.”

Riker’s demeanor softened a bit. “Icheb was an exceptional officer; he should have had a bright future and a long career. I was harder on him than I should have been when he came aboard the _Titan_ , and for reasons I’m not proud of. Thanks for reminding me not to repeat that mistake.” He looked away, up toward where Hugh was sleeping. “We overheard most of Hugh’s transmissions. It sounds like you two have been through pure hell. Jean-Luc couldn’t tell us what happened after he left the Artifact, obviously.”

“Will,” Commander Troi interceded gently, “I think we should let Elnor get situated and let the debriefing wait.” Her dark eyes scanned his face, resting on the same injuries that had drawn Hugh’s concern in the Artifact’s infirmary. “Kestra, honey, go get the medkit.”

Elnor didn’t protest as the Commander steered him into a chair. He flinched as she cupped his face to guide the kit’s dermal regenerator over his wounds. It was not painful; he was unused to such gentleness, a touch so light it almost tickled. It seemed strange, somehow, that Hugh had come back from the dead and seemed determined that it could be handled with rest, while Elnor was being fussed over from the aftermath of one beating.

The girl watched his doctoring with interest, though his _tan qalanq_ was what held her gaze the longest.

“Do you use your sword on people?” she asked quietly, solemn.

“In defense of others,” he affirmed. “Most recently Hugh. My _rrhadam._ ” He gave Commander Troi an apologetic look and rose to his feet. “I should be watching over him.”

“Elnor, you need to rest as much as Hugh does. And you haven’t eaten.” There was a tone of surety in Commander Troi’s voice that seemed like more than simple hospitality; she spoke before he could ask. “I’m an empath. I sense nearby emotions. I sense how determined you are to protect Hugh, but also that you’re hungry, worried, and exhausted.”

“I’m trained in the ways of the Qowat Milat. I can undergo more deprivation than this.” And he couldn’t fail Hugh again. If his rrhadam had any need as he healed, for care or protection, it was Elnor’s duty to provide. 

Her brows rose slightly. “Where’s the sense in wearing yourself down now when Hugh may need you later? Especially when there’s someone nearby who will be able to sense if he’s in distress?” Elnor looked away, unhappy with her logic, but too truthful to fight against it. “You won’t compromise Hugh’s safety if you take care of yourself a little.” Her voice was gentler now. “You’re among friends, Elnor. You’re both safe now.”

* * *

In the end, Elnor let himself be coaxed into taking a meal and a shower. There were no other spare bedrooms. Deanna (as Commander Troi insisted he call her) said she would make him a bed in the sunroom upstairs when night came; in the meantime, he napped on the sofa in the family room, his sleep light and restless. 

He woke in the dark, to the sound of a collision and footfalls heading toward the stairs. He knew, before his eyes had even fully opened, that something had happened to Hugh. He moved instinctively; the cabin’s support beams and rafters were the handholds and launch points that made him a path to the upper floor, but all he could see in his mind’s eye was Hugh lying on the deck of the Artifact, blood pulsing from his neck, spilling over his fingers.

His muscles burned with exertion when he hit the landing. He ignored Deanna and Captain Riker’s stunned faces as he darted past them and into Hugh’s room, hand to his sword.

Hugh sat on the floor, facing the wall. His expression was glazed; he blinked uncomprehending at the barrier in front of him. The wet shine of blood on his face almost stopped Elnor’s heart. He dropped to his knees as Hugh’s side, remembered to breathe when Hugh startled out of his daze.

“Elnor…?” Hugh touched his bloody lip and grimaced, calling up the lights just as the humans entered the room. “Where…?” Elnor could see the question forming on Hugh’s lips before he realized they weren’t on the Artifact anymore. Hugh looked down at the stains on his fingertips. “I was trying to get to them.” He sighed. “A bad dream, that’s all.”

“A little more than just a dream.” Elnor frowned at the wall, as if it had somehow conspired to have Hugh run into it. “It’s upsetting to see you injured again.”

“The bleeding has already stopped.” Hugh smiled wanly and wiped the last of the blood from his face. “The nanoprobes will stay active for a while.”

“Well, I’ve rested now. So I can guard against your bad dreams.”

Hugh squeezed Elnor’s arm with his clean hand, but shook his head. “I’m not getting back to sleep any time soon. I might as well get to work.”


	4. Chapter 4

Hugh opted for the sonic shower attached to the upstairs bathroom over the luxury of washing up with water. Elnor left him to his privacy, but joined him on the stairs. The moment they set foot downstairs, the whole of the Troi-Riker household began gently strongarming Hugh into taking a meal. The moment his rrhadam showed signs of resistance, Elnor eschewed gentleness for expediency, taking possession of his shoulder bag and refusing to return it until he’d seen Hugh scrape the last bite of food from his bowl.

“Thank you,” Elnor said simply, handing the bag over. 

Hugh pushed the bowl and cup aside, and began fishing through the bag for the PADD and files he’d brought off of the Artifact.

“I can’t wait for you to meet our Earthside head of security,” he muttered. “You two will love each other.” 

“If she’s as concerned for your safety as I am, then I think I will find her easy to love,” Elnor agreed, utterly sincere in his sentiment, but smiling nonetheless. If Hugh had enough spark in him for even a small verbal swipe like that, perhaps his recovery wasn’t so precarious as Elnor’s mind kept insisting.

Deanna and Captain Riker were putting the house in order for the night; she came to collect Hugh’s dishes. 

“You don’t have to work at the table,” she said. “There’s an office upstairs.”

“I actually work better when I can hear other people around.” Hugh seemed to catch himself, glanced back toward the kitchen where Kestra was watching them, not even pretending to have a rein on her curiosity. “Actually… some of the images I’m working with might be disturbing. I can go upstairs if you’d rather.”

Deanna followed his gaze, tipped him a slight smile. “It’s all right, Hugh. She’ll be heading to bed soon.” Kestra shot an annoyed look at her mother… then suddenly darted off without a word.

Captain Riker came in from the deck and nodded to Danna. He’d been checking the perimeter, Elnor expected.

“I’m… sorry for the imposition,” Hugh said, addressing them both. “I know I don’t have any right to your help, let alone your home.”

“It’s fine, Hugh,” the captain assured him. “From what Elnor’s told us, you’ve spent a long time in unfriendly territory.”

The observation provoked a flat, humorless laugh. 

“That would describe the last twenty years of my life,” Hugh explained, “or that of any xB. But no, the Artifact wasn’t pleasant.” 

Kestra pelted back into the room at that moment, a portable computer clutched to her chest and a triumphant smile on her face. “You can use this, if you want. It’ll be easier than trying to organize your data on a single-screen PADD.”

“I…” Hugh blinked. “I’ll probably need to wipe the unit once I’m done. Are you sure?”

Kestra pushed it into his hands. “I keep backups.”

“Thank you, Kestra. I’m sure this will make the job easier.” Hugh powered on the terminal and fanned out the trifold holographic display before linking his PADD and uploading the data he’d taken from the Artifact. 

Captain Riker gave his daughter’s shoulder an approving squeeze. “Time for bed, wild girl.”

“Yeah, dad.” She met Hugh’s eyes solemnly. “Good luck.” 

Elnor watched the Captain usher his daughter away, his mien both proud and protective as she turned her head up to ask a question. A momentary sadness echoed through a place in his heart that was more knowledge than memory now, a longing once more to glimpse faces lost to the unreliable memory of a child, an old loss that could never be mended. He pushed it aside and turned back to Hugh.

Hugh’s focus was entirely on the holo screen, his hands practically flying over the interface as he began organizing information and laying out the report. His jaw was set, the same barely contained rage that Elnor had seen so briefly on the Artifact now blazing in his eyes. How long had he been waiting, Elnor wondered, to strike back against the injustice and cruelty his people had endured? How many times had he swallowed his hurt and rage, biding his time until he could smuggle the information out? How many isolated, sunless years spent hoping that, somehow, help would arrive? And when someone had finally had come, it hadn’t been for any interest in Hugh at all, only for the possibility that he might be useful.

Elnor tried to school his mind back to the alert discipline expected of a qalankhkai, but the image of Hugh’s pale, determined profile seemed burned into his mind, and the roil of emotion refused to be stilled. Since meeting Picard again, he’d felt, too keenly, the difference between being useful and being wanted. He wanted Hugh to be certain of his loyalty, to give and seek comfort in the surety of his oath. And he wanted to touch Hugh once more, if only to reassure himself once again that the man who’d been cold and lifeless under his hands mere hours ago was whole and alive.

But this work was too important to interrupt. The well-being and freedom of too many people rested on Hugh being able to recount the events on the Artifact. And Elnor would wait...

“Elnor.” Deanna was standing at the front door leading out onto the deck. “Can I speak to you for a moment?”

Elnor frowned. “Hugh?”

Hugh barely looked up from his screen, but did nod acknowledgement. 

Elnor followed Deanna out onto the porch deck. She left the door open behind them, and Elnor was grateful. The last time he’d left Hugh alone for any amount of time, he’d wound up injured again. He didn’t expect Hugh would hurl himself into another wall, but… it was still good to have a clear path back to him.

There was a shimmer in the air overhead, distorting the stars. Shielding, Elnor supposed; the homes of the wealthy - which was to say, the most successful criminals - at North Station had similar protections against the seasonal storms and daily violence on Vashti. He appreciated the precaution. 

The shields did nothing to keep out the chill in the air, however. Elnor had no idea what the flow of Nepenthe’s seasons might be, but he was glad of his coat; the clear and cloudless night left him missing Vashti’s warmth more than he had on La Sirena or even the Artifact. 

Deanna took a seat on one of the two padded chairs; after a moment, Elnor took a seat across from her, on the wooden bench where he’d first seen her and Captain Riker sitting when he and Hugh had stumbled upon this place. 

It was Deanna who spoke first.

“I don’t need to be an empath to see how worried you are for Hugh. And Jean-Luc told us a little of how you came to be on his crew. So I thought you might like a chance to talk while Hugh’s working.”

Elnor glanced back at the doorway again, then wrapped his arms around himself.

“You did say the debriefing could wait until later,” Elnor acknowledged. “And it is later.”

“That’s not really what I meant,” she said, smiling his way. “I thought you might want a chance to discuss how you’re feeling. I expect Hugh isn’t the only one who’s been through a rough time recently.”

“I’m not sure if I should talk to you,” Elnor admitted. He tugged restlessly at his sleeve ties before he could catch himself; he willed his fingers to be still. “You seem very kind. But Hugh wasn’t sure this place would be safe for him, and I don’t understand why. He seemed to trust Dr. Crusher and Admiral Picard. Captain Riker was a mentor to Icheb and a friend to Seven. And all of you served with Picard. I trust that Hugh has good reason to be cautious, but I don’t know the root of it.”

“Ah.” Deanna rested her hands atop her crossed knees. “I can’t speak for Hugh, but I can give you some background, if you think that would help make more sense of the situation.”

Elnor nodded. “I would like that, please.”

“All right. This was about thirty years ago. The Enterprise was surveying a star system, scouting it for habitable planets suitable for exploration and eventual colonization. We picked up a signal of unknown origin coming from a moon that was itself potentially habitable. We thought it was a distress signal… and it turned out it was, of sorts. The away team we sent down found a crashed Borg scout ship. Four of the five scouts were dead, and one was badly injured.”

“Hugh?” Elnor asked.

Deanna nodded. “Dr. Crusher wanted to bring him onboard for treatment. After some discussion, Captain Picard agreed.”

“Why was helping him even in question?”

“He… _we_ weren’t sure at the time what level of threat even a single Borg scout might represent. We had the capability to keep him safely contained, but there was a danger of the Borg pursuing their missing scout. And this was before it was known that most individuals assimilated by the Borg could be freed from the collective. Captain Picard had been a captive of the Borg previously, but he was only part of the collective for a short time, and the hypothesis was that his recovery was due to unique circumstances.”

Elnor frowned. “Picard wanted to let Hugh die, didn’t he?” he said quietly. “I’ve heard him talk about the xBs. He thinks they’re a cancer on the galaxy.” He supposed the realization should have angered him, but it barely impacted the tangle of emotion he felt about the admiral. More than anything, he felt sad for Hugh and freshly protective of him. 

“That was an option under discussion, yes.” Deanna regarded him calmly. “Are you aware of the admiral’s history with the Borg?”

“I know he was taken by them once, like Seven and Hugh.”

“And what did you observe of him on the Artifact?”

Elnor frowned. “I beamed aboard not very far behind him. I thought I’d have to work at staying out of sight, but he was almost in a daze, wandering and disoriented until Hugh called him out of it. I think I could have stood in front of him and he wouldn’t have known me.”

“He would have been lost in memory of his time in the collective, and the associated trauma,” she explained gently. “And if that’s how strongly he was affected thirty years after the fact, imagine how he felt about the prospect of Borg aboard the Enterprise again when we found Hugh. I’m not saying his first instinct was the correct one, but I think it’s important to understand the context in which it was made.”

Elnor frowned, but nodded. “And you did save Hugh.”

“We brought him on board for study, and while he was on board, we learned that he was capable of finding his individuality again once apart from the Collective. But our concerns about the Borg pursuing their wayward drone were correct. In the end, Hugh volunteered to go back to the collective to keep the Borg from coming after the Enterprise.”

New admiration for Hugh’s bravery and selflessness washed over Elnor, but the story still left him confused.

“That doesn’t explain why Hugh wasn’t sure he could trust you.”

“I’m not sure how much of that is about me and Will personally, and how much of it is due to what we represent. One of the options under discussion while we were studying Hugh was whether it would be possible to send him back to the collective implanted with a means to destroy the collective from within. Hugh didn’t know this while he was aboard the Enterprise, but Will admitted it to him later, when we discovered that Hugh and other Borg who’d been abandoned by the collective were living on an otherwise uninhabited planet. At the end of that same mission, Picard urged Hugh to use caution if they ever did reach out to the Federation.” The corners of Deanna’s mouth turned down; all of her features tightened with old anger. Elnor knew the look well from so many of his sisters among the order.

“At the time,” she went on, “Starfleet had instructed Picard that any other liberated Borg we discovered were to be weaponized against the collective, as we’d originally intended for Hugh. Knowing what we knew then about the potential for freed Borg to reclaim their individuality, we couldn’t follow those orders in good conscience.” Deanna sighed. “Eventually, not very long after the close of the Dominion war, Hugh and the others did reach out for assistance in leaving the world where they’d been stranded. Their signal reached a Federation science vessel, and the decision was made to bring them to Earth. They were transported on board, but the crew were instructed to treat them as hostile by default and confined them to cells in the brig. Only Hugh was allowed any freedom aboard the ship, and the command staff that had been present during our previous encounters had to vouch for him before he was allowed that much.

“These are just the incidents I’m aware of; I’m sure Hugh’s experienced dozens more over the course of his life. He’s been shown time and again that the Federation will hold those taken by the Borg accountable for what was done to them, regardless of the reality that they were enslaved and violated. Every action toward them, for good or ill, is filtered through fear of what the Borg are capable of. And I’m afraid Will and I didn’t do much to show him that things have changed when you two arrived. It’s understandable that he’d be concerned about the type of welcome he’d receive, even from us.”

The injustice of it all left restless heat prickling under Elnor’s skin; his hands were balled into fists at his side before he realized it. 

“That sounds like the Federation I know - you claim good intentions, but only do a half-job of living up to them. I’ve known Hugh for so short a time, and all I’ve seen him do is try to protect the people in his care from the whole galaxy, even from the people who should have been protecting them in the first place. That’s why he’s here and not Earth - he thought if he went there, the Federation would find a way to blame him and all the other xBs for what happened on the Artifact. He had to be out of your reach to be sure he was safe enough to report he almost died!” 

Oh, it was a lie - the “almost” was such a lie. But Elnor somehow still couldn’t make himself speak it aloud again.

“That’s why you’re here with Hugh and not with Picard?” Her voice was level in the face of his anger. “Because there was no one to protect him?”

 _Yes!_ he wanted to say. Because Hugh and all of his xBs deserved at least one person to stand between them and harm. Because that was the ideal of the qalankhkai he’d always longed to be, and longed to be still, despite his failure. Because it was true… but not wholly true. And there was only so far he could betray his training.

“I’d… hoped Hugh would stay with Seven aboard the Artifact. And that we’d all look for Picard together, so there would be no conflict between the oath I gave the admiral and the one I gave Hugh.” He lifted his chin stubbornly, despite the shamed blush heating his cheeks. “But Hugh couldn’t stay on the Artifact, and I owed him more. And… his need was greater. Picard had friends to turn to, a crew and ship to support him, and even Seven was coming to his aid with the Artifact. Hugh only had me.”

“And I’m grateful for your choice.” Hugh stood in the open doorway, his PADD tucked under his arm. 

Elnor’s fluster deepened, both with embarrassment that he hadn’t marked Hugh’s approach, and pleasure at his unexpected (if undeserved) approval.

“I didn’t know you would hear that,” he muttered. Gratitude or no, by now, Hugh must have thought he’d been burdened with the most ill-prepared, capricious qalankhkai in all the galaxy. 

“Then I’m glad I came looking for you.” Hugh held up his PADD. “I need your help filling in some gaps in my report.”

Troi stood. “I’ll leave you two to your work, but Elnor? I would like to continue our talk later.” She looked to Hugh next. “And I’d like a chance to talk with you as well. I think two people who’ve just been through ‘pure hell’ might need the ear of a trained counselor.” 

“I’ll keep it in mind, if I have time.” Hugh offered her a smile that was so polite, it could only be false. Instead of taking over Deanna’s vacated chair, he sat next to Elnor and consulted his PADD, again flicking through screens faster than Elnor could follow.

“What I need,” Hugh explained as the door shut behind Deanna, “was everything you saw from the moment you beamed aboard until you met up with us in the queencell. And… what happened while I was incapacitated, as much of it as you can remember.”

Elnor frowned at the hesitation, but nodded. “I’ll tell you all I know.”

He told Hugh of his determination to protect Picard after hearing his description of the Borg, of observing of Picard’s unfocused wandering of the Artifact until he was rescued by Hugh and his xBs, of losing sight of them both when he had to hide from a security patrol, and then tailing the patrol to catch up at the queencell. Recounting what he’d heard when Hugh was captured and interrogated was more difficult. Not just for Elnor; Hugh drew in on himself as Elnor recounted the massacre from his point of view. Elnor did not falter in his recounting of events… but he did put an arm around Hugh’s shoulders, lending him closeness and warmth as a shield against the raw memories.

Hugh didn’t waver either. He listened as Elnor spoke of his death and the aftermath, asked questions about the behavior of the guards, of Seven and the xBs. But it was not a dispassionate interrogation; Hugh tremored against Elnor’s side as he recorded the interview, and Elnor ached with each catch of Hugh’s breath. However much the memory of the Zhat Vash’s cruelty and his own failures might pain him, it was surely nothing compared to the heartache Hugh was reliving. When Hugh had spent the last of his questions, Elnor gave in to his heart and embraced him tightly, doing his best to pull him out of the past and into the now, where he was neither endangered nor alone.

Hugh was stiff in his hold for a breath, but then rolled into the shelter of Elnor’s arms and hid against his shoulder, returning the embrace with strength that was nearly painful.

Elnor held on tighter.

“Hugh,” he murmured, wondering if his rrhadam would even hear him over his thundering heart and quickened breath. 

“It…” The expected lie of well-being didn’t come, and Hugh breathed out slowly. “I’m not always so fragile,” he said instead, the words muffled against Elnor’s shoulder. “I won’t need this forever.”

“I think that is a half-truth.” Elnor loosened his hold to pet down Hugh’s back and neck in soothing strokes. “Soon you may feel strong enough that you won’t ask for this, but I don’t think this need leaves you. And that does not dismay me. I am your qalankhkai,” Elnor reminded him. “And… your spirit is more sorely wounded than your body now. If I can offer you any ease in your healing, then please, ask it of me. Helping you is an honor, Hugh, not a burden.”

Hugh leaned into him for a long moment, accepting without comment or question his gift of comfort before rising to his feet with a murmur of thanks and heading back to his work. Elnor watched him go, left with his mix of grief and accomplishment, and a quiet renewal of determination that Hugh would, if nothing else, always have at least one ally in him.

* * *

All sense of time had fled when Hugh returned to his report. Grief and fury honed to a cold determination drove him, blended words and images in memory, and did not release him until the last of the report - now a barely-cloaked condemnation Federation's neglect as much as the Free State's cruelty - had been committed to the page. 

He considered waiting until morning to send it, even with time counted as one more enemy standing against them. He felt the weight of responsibility and the knowledge of all the lives still counting on him trying to smother out his anger. He could sleep on it, wait until he was more clear-headed. It was undoubtedly more prudent to take the cautious road. 

But then, that road had ended with the blood of over four thousand dead on his hands. 

Hugh sent the report, copied it to his personal PADD, and wiped the portable terminal. There was nothing to do now but wait.

The hyperfocused fugue was slow to clear. When Hugh came back to full clarity, he was standing beside the bed in his loaned room, stripped to the waist with a clean tee shirt dangling in his grip. Elnor had gathered a nest’s worth of pillows and blankets from somewhere, and was making a bed just inside the doorway. 

Hugh frowned at that. 

“Elnor. Why are you sleeping on the floor?”

“I said I would guard against your dreams,” Elnor reminded him. “They might not cross the threshold as most enemies would, but at least I’ll be nearby if you’re in distress.”

“That’s… really not necessary.” More than unnecessary, Hugh found himself upset by the idea of Elnor taking on needless hardship after all they’d been through already. 

Elnor shook his head, his jaw set stubbornly as he fluffed his pillow. “I’ll not see you come to more harm. A night on the floor won’t hurt me, and it might save you from another injury.”

“If I’m going to have nightmares, they won’t go away in a day.” But it seemed his qalankhkai had gone conveniently deaf. Hugh sighed. “Elnor, this is ridiculous. If you won’t sleep in your bed, share this one with me. There’s room.”

Elnor considered. “Can I sleep between you and the door?”

As quickly as that, Hugh’s upset flipped to amusement. He pushed down a laugh and nodded. 

“Yes, if that’s what it takes.” He quickly pulled on his shirt, then settled himself on the side of the bed nearest the wall. “There, see? You can stand between me and danger without killing your back. Now please?”

Elnor folded the blankets first, setting them on the desk near the window, careful not to tip over the stacks of journals and maps drawn on coarse, handmade paper already piled there. Then he stripped off his coat, shirt, and boots and came to settle on Hugh's side of the bed. Hugh felt more than a twinge of curiosity about the few scars that stood out on Elnor’s otherwise unmarked body, but found himself far too exhausted to keep hold of the emotion. The pillows were calling his name. 

“Hugh?”

He blinked the world back into focus. “Yes, Elnor?”

“I… when you were asking me to recount my time on the Artifact, I remembered something. You said that it wasn’t hard to get the ship to listen, if you knew how to speak to it. But when did you have time to tell it about me?”

The question made absolutely no sense, even as he ran it through his mind a second time. “I don’t understand.”

“When I found your office, I… I put my hand on the door, the hand still covered with your blood, and… I thought it opened because of your DNA, but after we spoke, I thought it seemed more likely you were able to tell it to recognize me somehow? So I'd find your Ranger beacon.”

“Oh.” Hugh could feel his mouth settling into an unhappy, straight line. “I’m sorry, Elnor, but you’re wrong. The door didn’t open for me, you’d have needed my badge for that. And it didn’t open for you… well, not because you’re Elnor, anyway. It opened because you’re Romulan. Any Romulan of any rank can open the door to that office. It was considered an acceptable security compromise, so long as they could observe the former Borg Director’s work at any time. Just. To make sure I wasn't up to anything.”

Elnor stared, seemingly shocked wordless. Hugh wished he’d tried to soften his answer, and not just for Elnor’s sake. He could feel the cold oppression of the Artifact all around him in that moment. He offered as much apology as he could manage in his weak smile, and held one arm open to Elnor.

Elnor accepted the invitation at once, wrapping Hugh up in his long arms, leaving him feeling safer than any guard at the door possibly could have done. He reminded himself that he could not get used to this easy comfort and affection… but for now, Elnor was offering and he was beyond happy to accept.

“I’m sorry, so very sorry for what happened,” Elnor said, an edge of a growl to his words. “But I cannot say how happy I am that you’re away from that place.”

And, to his deepest shame, Hugh found he couldn’t either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's more Hugh POV and more forward Motion in the next chapter, promise. But I wanted to give Elnor a little more of an idea of 1) the actual weight of the task he's taken on and 2) just what Hugh's been up against since before he ever set foot on the Artifact.


End file.
